


Lacking In Cocktails

by gaydaractivate04



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Is Sleep Deprived, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Malec, Downworlder Politics, Fluff, Kinda, Magnus Bane Is A Freewheeling Bisexual, Poor Alec, Timeline? What Timeline?, YAY FOR COCKTAILS, and so done, this one is happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24377353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaydaractivate04/pseuds/gaydaractivate04
Summary: “Darling, we have guests.” His voice was soft, imploring. It didn’t seem to trigger any wakefulness or coherency in Alec, who only sighed, the gust sending a shiver down his spine. His forehead now rested on Magnus’ shoulder, hair tickling the side of his neck as he shook his head.“Guests can wait.” There was an indignant sort of tone now, as if Alec just didn’t see any importance to anything, anything at all, except having Magnus accompany him back to bed, the feather mattress so welcoming.“The guests are already here.”Or: Magnus has to have a meeting with werewolf packs and a coven of vampires, as they want to move into New York, and Alec is sleep deprived.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 12
Kudos: 240





	Lacking In Cocktails

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my friends!! I hope you find this idea as cute and fluffy as I did when I dreamed it up at three in the morning!!
> 
> To anyone reading my in-progress work: I haven't abandoned it, don't worry, The update should be out at the end of the week :) I want to get this idea out before I forgot or got lazy.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story!!

Being the High Consular Warlock of New York had its perks. Respect from his coworkers - _until they whispered behind his back about his dalliances_ \- more influence than most when it came to Downworlder safety - _not that the oh so mighty Clave cared much for his thoughts_ \- and the ability to weigh in on a few decisions made by the New York Institute - _aah yes, one of his many dalliances._

There were other times, though, where he hated his job. Where he just wanted to laze about in bed with his Shadowhunter and while away the hours talking about anything and everything.

This was one such day.

An issue had arisen, as two newly formed werewolf packs moved into New York, a coven of vampires claiming territory at the same time. The three groups had been at each other’s throats over infringement of boundary lines, claws and fangs out, when Magnus had heard of the incident and portaled himself to what would have been a battle ground.

After the initial shock of seeing him, a warlock in a sparkly waistcoat, the Downworlders had become hostile, demanding him to leave them to their quarrel, or to quote, _“Take his glittery ass back to where he came from or there’d be nothing left to bury”_ , as said one of the pack leaders.

It had only taken Magnus a moment to explain exactly who he was, and only a moment more to make it clear that if they started a war on his grounds, there’d be no one left to fight it.

That was how he found himself hosting a sort of meeting, one week later, to sort out what buildings and grounds could be given accordingly.

He still wasn’t quite sure why he felt having a woman who’d threatened to tear him into itty bitty pieces in his living room was a good idea. Not that she’d be able to, but he did really love his Persian rug and would hate to get any blood on it.

Of course, the vampires hadn’t been happy about a meeting in daylight, saying it was an unnecessary risk and disadvantage for their coven. The meeting itself was already tiresome, he didn’t wish to disturb his sleep by hosting it at night time, a time where the work day was supposed to be done.

Instead, Magnus assured them that he’d make sure they were not harmed by any sunlight- _the windows removed from his walls with a snap of his fingers_ \- and he’d portal their representatives to and from the meeting.

It began on time, the werewolves arriving right at one o’clock, a pack leader and their third from each group - _you don’t bring the alpha and second, not unless you wanted a leaderless pack_ \- and the vampires a second after them, the portals snapping closed behind. In silence they took seats around the table he’d moved into the room, all seven chairs made of solid wood, more drab than his usual taste.

An eighth seat sat empty at the opposite head, the Downworlders glancing from chair to warlock, as he had not-so-gently steered them away from it.

After all, the only people who sit at the heads of a table are the masters of the house.

There was no polite welcome speech, no chatting about the weather. They got to business quickly, cold glares and half-snarls traded across the table. Discussion began, each leader having their own set of conditions and requirements, many of which _directly_ countered those of the other leaders.

It was almost as if they were _trying_ to make this difficult. 

Magnus made it one full hour.

Sixty minutes of attempting to diffuse tension and ignore the not-so-subtle jabs being thrown across the table, and more often than expected, thrown his way. The vampire’s commander especially. 

She was a slim brunette, wearing an evening gown that would have complimented her, had it not been a century or two out of date. She seemed to take pleasure in snidely questioning everything in his apartment, from the plants in the kitchen windowsill - _Alexander loved them_ \- to the rather stunning lamps strewn across the room - _Alexander had been mortified when he’d seen the leg lamp, not getting the reference_ \- to the delightful little elephant statues he had placed on the mantle.

She would have reminded him of Raphael, had it not been for the deliberate cruelty behind her words. 

This was all while the werewolves laid out their expectations, a map lid on the table, potential territories outlined in the shimmering blue of his magic. Places had been punctured by the tips of claws as the land was bartered away, growls rumbling when the vampires said they too wanted this place, as _it would just be so convenient_ and _far away from the sounds and pull of the city_ , as if that was what they really wanted it for.

The diplomacy of the vampires’ second didn’t quite make up for the direct defiance of their first. 

In his opinion, it was a miracle he’d made it this far without getting a drink.

That said, as the thread of conversation lulled for a moment, he stood, drawing the attention of the gathered Downworlders.

“I think it’s time for a brief recess,” he said, waving a hand as he spoke. A small flicker of his magic shifted the nearby living room to fit his needs, low sofas appearing out of seemingly thin air. A coffee table was summoned along with them, bottles of scotch and wine - _nothing too fancy, he wasn’t wasting his_ good _alcohol on this company_ \- crystal classes waiting to be filled. 

As the delegates made their way to the couches, Magnus went to the kitchen, meaning to make himself a cocktail, as wine was a little too, how do you say, _refined_ for his mood at the moment. 

He was halfway through making it, adding a splash of bright green to the drink - _he wasn’t quite sure what it was, he’d purchased it a decade or two ago and the label had worn off_ \- when a pair of warm arms encircled his chest, a head bowed and resting on the back of his neck. 

The arms were bare, dark runes decorating the tanned skin. _Alexander._

The night before, they were meant to have a date night, a romantic dinner out on the balcony. But of course, their plans were foiled when Fate had other ideas, Alec being forced to stay behind at the Institute.

A rather determined group of Shadowhunters, leftover and influenced by the defeat of the Circle, had decided that this was the night they’d wreak havoc, bursting into bars and clubs frequented by Downworlders, slaughtering all they saw.

Thankfully, these were not warriors from Valentine’s inner circle, as they were younger and less experienced, likely fresh from the academy. The Institute was alerted quickly, and with Alec at the head of it all, they managed to subdue and capture the Shadowhunters in question, transferring them to the City of Bones to await trial.

Even with the quick response and lucky circumstances, as Luke’s pack had been in the area and helped minimize casualties, Alexander hadn’t returned home until half past four in the morning, burnt out stamina runes underneath his collar. He’d crashed, barely able to undress and shower, sleeping soundly even as Magnus was up and moving around, readying for the dreadful meeting he was currently wishing he’d postponed.

Wishing he’d postponed it, as Alec’s obviously bare torso pressed harder into his back, his nephilim slumping against him. 

“Come back to bed.” Alec sounded dead on his feet, clearly not realizing they had an audience, the room beyond the kitchen having gone dead silent. “It’s too early.” His words slurred together, voice muffled against the back of Magnus’ head.

“Good morning Alexander.” He kept his tone light, one hand now resting on Alec’s wrist, his partner’s fingers clutching as his. A groggy sounding groan vibrates through him, the noise seeming so much louder, pressed together like this.

“Sleep.” For a moment Magnus thinks that’s the end of Alexander’s eloquent persuasion, a drawn out sigh ruffling his hair. Despite the height difference, his nephilim seemed to find the perfect way to fit them together, his legs on either side of Magnus’. “Please?”

A kiss was pressed into the back of his head, so soft and at odds with the Shadowhunter persona people usually saw.

It was at that moment he remembered the meeting and the Downworlders and the reason he’d been pouring himself a drink in the first place, the glass now set down on the counter. 

_Damned meeting, I should have canceled._

“Darling, we have guests.” His voice was soft, imploring. It didn’t seem to trigger any wakefulness or coherency in Alec, who only sighed, the gust sending a shiver down his spine. His forehead now rested on Magnus’ shoulder, hair tickling the side of his neck as he shook his head.

“Guests can wait.” There was an indignant sort of tone now, as if Alec just didn’t see any importance to anything, anything at all, except having Magnus accompany him back to bed, the feather mattress so welcoming. 

“The guests are already here.”

He felt the change, didn’t need to see his partner’s face to know what mask he was putting on, his body stiffening and straightening as he became aware of who, exactly, was a room away. The arms around his chest lifted off, a tinge of regret coming with the loss of warmth as Alec stepped away from him.

Not too far, not as if he was embarrassed of what he’d been doing, but far enough. As Magnus turned around, meaning to reassure Alexander, to remind him of what was going on, he realized the problem. 

You see, when one goes to sleep in their own house, exhausted, after a long day of work, you don’t really care what you wear to bed, so long as it’s comfortable. You don’t really care what you _don’t_ wear to bed, either. 

It had been a warm night and there was no need to get dressed, to put on a pair of sweats, which Magnus had assumed he was wearing, especially considering the only person supposed to see his boyfriend in the morning was himself.

Alec was clothed in nothing but a pair of boxers - _thankfully, looser ones than usual_ \- and had his arms crossed over his chest, an attempt at modesty, a little too late. His cheeks were red, the blush only continuing to grow, a testament to how uncomfortable he was as he met the wide gazes of the gathered Downworlders.

The first one to break the silence was Anna - _that was her name_ \- not even bothering to hide her smirk. “You know, if I’d known this is what the Shadowhunters here are like, I’d have moved here sooner.” Her gaze was appreciative, a little too sharp for comfort, as it traveled up and down Alec’s body. 

Alec, for his part, didn’t flinch or respond back in kind, a frozen sort of grin coming over his features. “Alec Lightwood. Nice to meet you all, I’d forgotten about Magnus’ meeting.”

They had spoken about the meeting beforehand; or rather, Magnus had bemoaned his position as High Warlock while Alexander had listened and laughed. 

Thankfully, the others had sense enough to not comment further, instead settling on staring, more than one mouth hanging open. Alec seemed to realize this, meeting each of their gazes until they dropped, the smile not wavering an inch. 

“Well, I’m sorry for disturbing you and I’ll let you get back to work.” He glanced at Magnus, the smile becoming genuine for a second. “I - I’m going to go put some clothes on.” 

He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to, as he reached for Alec’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze, shaking his head slightly at the apology in his partner’s eyes.

If anyone was to blame for this misfortune, it was himself. He should have been aware of the off chance of Alexander waking up before the end, should have roused him before the meeting began, but he’d looked so peaceful among the rumpled blankets, he hadn’t wanted to wake him. 

He left the room quickly, shoulders squared, reminding Magnus painfully of the soldier in him, military perfection in every line.

After a short pause he turned back to his _guests_ , clapping his hands sharply, the couches disappearing and individual glasses moved to the table, the bottle placed back in his cabinet. It was only because of his magic and the need to get this done and over with, that he did not allow them to fall onto the floor, previously having been sitting on the sofas. 

“I think that recess has gone long enough, so children, if you would join me back in the classroom.” He led the way to the table, trying and failing to tamp down his anger at the obvious curiosity and contempt, rolling off of those that followed.

Magnus swore to himself that if he ever had to deal with these select individuals again, he’d hand them over to Raphael for an hour and see how that went. Hopefully, his friend would allow a few to survive, despite their rudeness.

Or maybe not.

He was almost ready to call Raphael right then, magic at the tips of his fingers as he considered whether to summon his phone or throw them through a portal straight into Hotel Dumort, when the bedroom door opened. Alec, now clothed in Shadowhunter black, was striding towards them.

He ignored the Downworlders seated around the table, heading towards Magnus, a soft look on his face. His boyfriend slowed as he neared him, obviously unsure whether he’d welcome affection at the moment, the eyes of their guests riveted on the two of them.

They’d already ruined his hello, they weren’t about to ruin his goodbye.

A small smile and encouraging nod was all it took for Alexander to continue, his hand coming to rest on Magnus’ shoulder as he leaned in, planting a kiss on his cheek with a grin. 

“I just wanted to say I love you before I headed to the Institute. Apparently, Jace can’t handle an angry Izzy on his own and he needs my help.” As he spoke, Alec’s hands strayed to his hip, where Magnus knew his parabatai rune was.

“You should probably get there before she mauls him, from what I heard,” he said with a wink. “Jace has been a _little_ too involved in weeding out poor date choices for his esteemed sister.”

After Alec and Clary, Isabelle Lightwood was his favorite Shadowhunter of the last century; they’d exchanged numbers soon after he and Alec had gotten together. Bonding over texts about Alexander’s multitude of sweaters and Jace’s penchant for being in the wrong club at the wrong time - _so sorry, again, about that Maia_ \- they’d become good friends. 

That pulled a laugh out of Alec, the smile brightening as Magnus laughed with him. 

A squeeze on his shoulder and a quick _love you_ later, his boyfriend was turning and leaving, scooping up his stele and bow as he went, the door shutting quietly behind him. 

With a sigh and final glance, Magnus turned back to the table, back to his absolutely wonderful guests, the next hour stretching before him. He had a lot of work and mediating to do, none of which he was looking forward to. 

Maybe, next time, he’d _start_ the meeting with drinks. 

Lots of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, hope you liked the story!
> 
> Lemme know what you think in the comments!! Kudos are great of course, but comments make my day!!! :D
> 
> Thank you for reading, stay safe and stay healthy!


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